Until Dawn One Shots

Sam X Reader: Disoriented

Requested by @AeronSky!

Running water flowed in the body of water, the mines silent around Sam. Everything was all peaceful, and content.

Regarding one thing.

  "PLEASE NO!" Sam hollered, her eyelids pressing together, as she had no other decision but to block her vision.

What she had seen, really was something she never thought she would see as long as she lived. Which beyond this point, may not be much longer.

A medium sized man. Not too tall, nor too short. Standard for a male, or female, which honestly, you may never know.

He wore a navy blue pair of overalls, with a long sleeve shirt beneath it. He had an awfully traumatizing mask shielding his face. Colored white, with a decently normal amount of black hair hanging from its back.

Its teeth from the front popped out ahead of the gums, claiming a more yellowish color. It had no lips whatsoever to even add onto the face.

As far as his voice, it was covered up with a deep, monotoned robotic one. It always made Sam cringe whenever she heard it, and her entire body to experience a shiver.

The psychotic maniac had currently held a syringe in his hand. His flicked it's tip, as the fluid it contained bounced off. He then pressed the tip againstSam's neck as tears poured from her eyes, cascading briskly down her cheeks.

She was tightly stuck on a outdated wooden chair. Rope wrapped around her arms, and legs, keeping her secure, and away from escape.

"I've had enough of your constant bitching," the man snapped sharply, the needle penetrating her soft skin as it had dug in deeper. "I told you to shut the fuck up. And, did you listen? No. So, now-" he cackled devilishly as he twisted the needle spitefully. "You pay for it."

He had not immediately sunk it in deeper as she constantly squirmed in the chair, having it rocking back, and forth.

"Please-" she croaked with empathy towards herself as tears flowed more viciously, her arm beginning to burn, as her throat doing the same, just facing this being the reason. There was no doubt she would not restrain to sob, which she followed through with. How could she not in this situation?

"Like I would hurt you," he cackled a bit more, maniacally, smiling behind the mask with ease as he finally received the sensation he had craved for the past year. Well, at least a small part of it. The vengeance needed for his grief. The only thing he had be seeking, and succeeded to somewhat discover it. The feeling of accomplishment, showing the people you cared about most, what it felt like. What is was like. What it is like. Feeling terrorized, and panicked because of a loss, or disappearance.

This only describes one person in the immediate circle of eight friends. Who that is exactly?

The psycho had retracted the needle from her arm, as a coat of fresh blood soaked the tip. He tossed it behind him, as it was thrown into the pool of water, sinking deep down, where it was to never be seen of again.

'Like I would ever hurt you.'

Did he literally just say that? I mean, are we all hearing things? A psychotic maniac, saying that he would never hurt his victim, which is a partial lie, but, besides the fact.